March 2003

Thursday, 27 March 2003

I have sussed why I keep getting people coming to me with this search string: "What is the latest train to leave London for Manchester before 09:00?"

Another possible source is ngfl.northumberland.gov.uk/keystage3ictstrategy/Lesson 20plans/lessons 20pdf/8.3 20sample_teaching_u nit.pdf, for which I'm not going to put the link in, because I don't think I can access the National Grid For Learning.

So, for all you 11-14 year olds with the initiative to come to my site, here is the answer.

Simple answer: 8.00 Mondays to Fridays, 8.55 on Saturdays. On Sundays the first train does not leave until 9.05

More complicated answer: Timetables are available online at National Rail Enquiries. As you can see from above, it is important to check, because the times aren't the same every day.

Also, this is based on trains leaving from Euston. I haven't checked the times of trains from Paddington and Clapham Junction, because they take much longer.

You have to consider whether you really want to travel by Virgin trains, who are ironically regarded as being the most f*cked train service around (don't put that in your essay - you'll lose marks). I have found that especially when travelling to the suburbs of Manchester, it is actually quicker, at the weekends, to catch GNER to Wakefield or York, and Transpennine to Manchester Victoria.

You also have to consider whether 'timetabled to leave' is the same as 'leaving'. It has not been unknown for trains to sit at Euston waiting for a driver, or a signal, and then leave late.

But then, you don't really have any alternative to the train. I wouldn't recommend going by road - even if you were old enough to drive, which you aren't, driving is bad for the environment. Besides, you'll spend two hours just trying to pass Birmingham. You could fly, but flights at that time are more expensive. You will waste time travelling to the airport and checking in in advance. You will then have to travel from Manchester Airport to wherever, it's hardly worth it. Unless you're actually travelling from Slough or Crawley to Wythenshawe, in which case I would recommend the aeroplane. But I would advise against travelling before nine o'clock in the morning. It's cheaper later, and you get a lie in.

Do please come back and visit my site again. I would advise reading it from school, though, it contains some swearing.

Wednesday, 26 March 2003

It started off innocently. I only wanted to check a spelling. 'Queuing' or 'queueing'. My colleague's report said 'queueing'; MS Spellchecker (which, in Excel 97 comes only in American, for which queue is a foreign language) said queuing. I tried writing it down, but, to be honest, even 'queue' started to look odd (too many years of bus-catching in London?).

My Chambers Dictionary - which is rubbish, but I found it abandoned in a bookcase when we vacated our former premises - said that queue is 'a pendent braid of hair at the back of the head, a pigtail'. So I went to check out Mohammed's Collins. As I removed it from his shelf, I brought with me a pile of papers, just as he walked in the door - to see me destroying his work area. The Collins said queuing or queueing.

By this time I had disturbed the whole team, who all offered their opinion. Maggie's mini-Oxford does not contemplate queue as a gerund. So I'm going with the Collins but making note to self to buy proper dictionary.

Incidentally, when looking to see whether I really meant gerund, I encountered 'hebdomadal' - occurring every seven days.

Tuesday, 25 March 2003

As an experiment in freeform creativity I thought I would look at all the comments I posted yesterday, and during the day today to see if there was any coherence.

That I wouldn't agree with. People are just more complex than that. Some people go into the military to learn a trade (or get a job). Others are attracted by the uniforms and marching bands. Others because it's a family tadition or a childhood ambition. Many many more believe it is worthier to defend their country, or participate in peace-keeping missions, or help out in civil emergencies than to screw people out of their money in some city job.

Some of the reasons are rational, some are not. But Big Badger has analysed her/his susceptibility to propaganda, with which I can identify. How much more susceptible are 16 or 18 yr-olds, or whatever? I don't suppose many of the serving troops ever thought they would be fighting this sort of war, with this poor level of national support, at the bidding and mercy of this sort of so-called allies for these sorts of spurious excuses.

I'm sure I was reading a conversation about coats and Vitamin E on another blog.

But I couldn't have been, could I. Because it's on this blog. I must be going mad.

I'll take some Vitamin E and get me coat.

I'm reading this at work on IE4 (we get 5.5 in May. I can hardly wait.). So Stylesheets are not us.

I can't really go round the blogosphere demanding sites designed to look beautiful in IE 4 seeing as though my employer is the only place in the entire known universe still using IE 4. And I'm nt supposed to surf personal websites at work!

I think both sound like stress, and are highly reversible.

I had a strange one on holiday. I hardly had a chance for any caffeine during the day, and at five o'clock, having been up for thirteen hours, I had two espressos, fast (as one should). for the next two hours the left side of my face felt paralysed and I lost some peripheral vision.

Agreeance isn't in my (rubbish) Chambers dictionary, but in looking for it I foundanapaest, a foot consisting of two short syllables before a long, the reverse of dactyl.

A bit waaaaay off topic!

Aaaaagh gap between 'found' and 'anapaest'

The only one I remember was Wendy James. It used to cause rows in my student house becaus eit clashed with Home and Away. When Home and Away was new and innovative.

Oh, yes, the political figures one was shown during the 1992 Election. I stil have a videotape at home. (I thought that the result would be other than it was so I taped loads of programmes as an archive; then I couldn't face getting rid of the tape because it concluded various nonentities that I vaguely know).

If I remember I might dig it out at some time.

Non-London readers Good grief, Meg! Are you sure that they actually have the Worldwide web outside London?

I'm in a Dr Marten sandal mood today, which would go nicely with a cup of Assam tea.

Completely off message but you know you're now advertising dating services?

I meant off topic, didn't I?

I saw an advert on the station saying "Put your Fiances in their place".

Strange, I thought. He knows his place. I then realised it said "Finances."

But it had a feather-logo-thing above it, like an accent. So I thought it said Fiance. Easy mistake to make when the letters are only, you know, about twenty foot tall.

I'll have a blue left shoe and a brown right shoe, please as an homage to how I once went to work.

Five bloody weekends in the month.

My suggestion is that if you publish your photos you will become a lot more self-critical, and as you'll be looking at them conscious of the perhaps-critical public, and that will make you improve.

Barbies on top of computer?

Note to self: acquire

That was me.

No cookies are left in this computer overnight.

I read this entry, understanding the difference between cool and uncool; understanding the middle ground between not-to-cool and not-cool, but interesting. I even knew where to place myself.

So I was shocked (and awed) to read the word hierarchy. I was visulaising a spectrum. Definitely a spectrum.

I went to an all-girls RC convent grammar school.

I had to go for a scan and despite my best efforts I wasn't full enough. So I had to empty my bladder and then have an internal scan, which showed some truly gorgeous (no sarcasm) pictures of m yovaries.

G-strings. Thongs. Call them what you like. They have their advantages and disadvantages. They avoid VPL (instrad, if your trousers are too tight, you get VGL). They look very sexy when exposed over the top of low slung trousers. Well, they don't, but a lot of us girlies and those men (yes, those men - you men aren't supposed to be reading this) seem to think so.

There is something slightly sensual about the rub of trouser fabric against the sensistive nerve endings of the derriere. Like going knickerless but without needing to worry about what the neighbours might think.

But. they are not suitable for wearing at work. Here I sit at my office PC, blogging working away, and to my slight discomfort, I'm being wedgied by my own thong.

And I only put it on because it doesn't match any bra and I'm today wearing a bra that doesn't match any knickers. The alternative was a pink bra under a powder blue top.

UpdatePete has a poll on his site about what pants you wear. Go and vote now. Women only, of course...!

Monday, 24 March 2003

I'm never sure quite how long one should carry on an argument in someone else's comments box. So I thought I would conclude it here.

Kim wrote:

everyone needs to put their feelings aside and support our boys: they are out there prepared to die for your freedom.

I wrote:

Is that an order, Kim? How, exactly, will 'our boys' protect our freedoms by bombing Baghdad.

Would that include the freedom of free speech and free thought. Or 'feelings' as you call them.

Can I suggest you start exercising the freedom of thought - rather than parroting some trite expression from a tabloid newspaper?

Could you also consider how many people with a military background are opposed to the war? And ponder and reflect why.

Kim responded:

i do not read tabloids
i do have free thought: i believe the war is the right thing to do
i am not of a military background
when i have observed anti-war protests, the only people there have been kids skiving off school, hippies and people with an iq too low to actually understand why we need to go to war.
please do not make assumptions about me when u dont even know me: would u have the guts to go and fight for your country?

Three more people with differing views argued their case. Then Kim said

...also, in commenting on the kids and hippies, it was merely an objective observation. again, dont insult my intelligence when you dont even know who i am.
blair has different objectives for this war than bush. i dont support america but i do support britain.

I think I decided not to respond, because 26 Spicy Brains are quite a lot. So, here is my response:

Our boys is a very tabloid expression. Perhaps you don't read tabloids, but you certainly don't read real newspapers and magazines, either, or you would know what a cliché 'our boys' is. Especially when quite a few of them are 'our girls'. You are completely entitled to your views; so am I, and please don't tell me what to think. I didn't say you were of a military background - I merely alluded that quite a number of military types are opposed to the war, and are able to deal with the non-contradiction of also hoping that casualties are zero (or as close to as possible). You can't have observed any protests, even on the TV, to notice that the protesters were extraordinarily diverse. Into which of the categories does Miss Dynamite fit? Or a middle-aged, middle-class former Tory Parliamentary candidate of my acquaintance? Not to mention a good number of bloggers? You haven't actually explained why we need to go to war. Or how bombing Baghdad actually protects our freedoms.

I made no assumptions about you. If you believe that Blair has different objectives - which is not wholly inaccurate - why don't you question why he is happy to go along with George Bush. How can you say you support Britain but not America? In this specific circumstance they are indivisible. It's not really like supporting your nation at football, where blind devotion is customary. Asking me whether I would have the guts to go and fight for my country is a clever question. I've never had to make that choice and I doubt they would have me. I suspect that if it were necessary for me to fight for my country I would do so, but not out of guts, out of sheer necessity and the survival instant. Meanwhile, who exactly is fighting for this country right now? With the greatest respect, it is not the British forces. they're fighting for Iraq, which is quite a different country altogether. I am not aware of any occasion when Iraq has ever attacked Britain, nor do I believe that they have the capability of so doing. The previous Gulf War was a fight for Kuwait; the Falklands was arguably a fight for our country, or, at least for what was then known as a Dependent Territory, and now an Overseas territory. I will fully admit I was almost totally wrong to oppose that - although I still think Maggie gloried in slaughter, and I still believe it was wrong to torpedo the Belgrano.

The observation on kids and hippies was a bit more subjective than objective, I would say. Those word things - difficult, aren't they? No, I don't know you, and I think it would be wrong to comment on your intelligence - merely your use of words. And your obvious inability to answer the points put to you.

Sunday, 23 March 2003

I find it depressing that there have been so many British casualties as a result of 'accidents' and 'friendly fire'. But I won't say more because I don't have any knowledge to make any sensible comments.

Today was our second attempt to spend a day in Richmond. We got up at a reasonable time and were on a bus to London well before twelve. It was pretty hairy walking across Westminster Bridge. Bloody tourists.

We went to Westminster Pier but realised to our disappointment that there are no boat trips to Richmond in the winter. Winter? This is spring. I tried the Tfl wap site for information but it was useless on boats. I really need to get my mobile internetting sorted.

I suggested we went to Waterloo Station to get a train to Richmond; Jimmy suggested checking out the boats at Waterloo Pier. We strolled along Victoria Embankment, which was surprisingly deserted. We crossed by Hungerford Bridge, which I haven't been across since it was rebuilt. Being a blogger I stopped from time to time to take photos which may turn out really arty or really crap.

We found that there were no boats to Richmond from Waterloo, either, so we kind of abandoned the idea and went for a walk instead.

We strolled along the South Bank, something we haven't done since last year. It was a lovely day for a riverside stroll. Around the London Eye is very touristy, with a lot of people from overseas and out of town, but from Hungerford to Blackfriars is mainly Londoners. We lunched in the Doggett by Blackfriars Bridge, then onwards to the Millennium Bridge. We agreed that on one rainy Sunday we'll do Tate Modern.

We crossed the Millennium Bridge pausing to admire the architecture developing there - with the new bridges, and Ken's Palace, and the Gherkin (which I recently discovered is visible from Brixton Hill) - it brings an exciting contrast with the splendid classical form of St Pauls.

We went in St Pauls - neither of us has ever been in our life. Being a Sunday, it wasn't great for site-seeing, but we stayed for a bit of Evensong. As we sat on the steps outside I reflected on the numbers of people down the centuries who had come to this church, or its predecessors, to pray for peace in time of war.

When we were bored with Evensong we strolled through the deserted streets of the City to Postman's Park. I am trying to recall which blogger drew this to my attention just before the Blogmeet. I will post photos in due course, hopefully before the end of the month.

We travelled back from Barbican via Moorgate and change at Aldgate East for a District Line train, bound for...Richmond. But we got off at Embankment for coffee, and went home. We will get to Richmond this year, I promise. Or die trying.

As a member of the Labour Party I am fully signed up to receiving a weekly email from my Party. During the Main and Spring conferences this becomes a daily one. On big days eg Budget Day, I get a bonus one. And I like it, it's a way to get an idea of what the party thinks is important without the filtering of the media who may have a separate agenda. It always come from The Labour Party, and is generally sent on a bcc basis. The General Secretary sent one on Wednesday saying that he was responding to Party members who had contacted him wanting briefings on Iraq. Which I think is good.

Today, I received an email from "Tony Blair" - I've included the full text below in case you're interested. I don't know if I object more to the "Dear Colleague" salutation, or the standard but meaningless "This email and any files transmitted with it are confidential and intended solely for the use of the individual or entity to whom they are addressed." Or mayb ethat it was personally emailed to my email address.

I recall canvassing in the 1998 council elections and an elderly woman promised she would vote for me because I'm Irish (I'm not but if she wants to believe that...) , and because Tony Blair's Irish, and because he's gorgeous.

In the 1999 European Elections I was leafletting. The leaflet contained a photo of the ten candidates in Greater London, and, on the front page, a photo of Our Tone looking boyish yet Prime Ministerial. Another elderly woman said with what I believe to be all sincerity "Ooh, I'll put this under my pillow!"

I don't think the personal email from Tony will have quite the same effect, you know. And I think there's a disingenuity in sending it out. It's like some apparatchik at Millbank wants us to support the war because Tony's basically a nice bloke who plays the guitar. It doesn't work like that.

Thursday, 20 March 2003

I realised with some horror last night that I had over ten hours of taped TV building up. So I settled down for a viewing. I started with Episode Three of the Great War, from ten days ago. Episode 4 wasn't shown last weekend, because of sport, or something, but judging from the Radio Times, it won't be shown next week either. I suppose the Beeb have pulled it out of sensitivity to the current situation, a logical decision, but in my opinion, a wholly inappropriate logic.

I then watched "This Little Life". David Morrissey was in this, and, as his sister had the impossible task of teaching me netball, I always try to watch stuff he's in. The "I knew his sister" has been overtaken by a realisation that not only is he generally in fine dramas, but is a rather fine actor. This was a terrifyingly weepy drama. Not sentimental-schmaltzy, but haunting.

I then watched the last two episodes of Cold Feet, the death of Rachel. Again, extraordinarily weepy. Although I know these are only fiction, watching such things, especially late at night, does affect me emotionally. They rather affected my inability to sleep (perhaps not helped by the hour's nap I had taken earlier in the bath - not exactly quality sleep).

So to wake up to this morning's news, no less shocking for its predictable inevitability, has left me rather melancholy. When I was younger, wars (or, indeed, illegitimate invasions) used to make me angry and passionate in my railing against the international patriarchal-capitalist conspiracy. Now it makes me sad and despairing.

I think a good bit of escapist catching up on four episodes of Grange Hill will do me good tonight. I know I should be protesting in Whitehall, but, I feel powerless.

(And Jon, I've only just spotted your comemnt - I would very much appreciate taking you up on your video offer and will email you later!)

Tuesday, 18 March 2003

BBC NEWS | Politics | Cook's resignation speech - I'm doing a few posts over the next few days which are really just a way of recording a few things in my journal for future reference - he received a standing ovation and even applause for an electrifying delivery of a dignified speech about why he was resigning over the imminent war with Iraq. Lord Hunt and John Denham have also resigned. Clare Short decided to stay pit: the media analysis is that her credibility is in tatters.

It's only scrolling across the BBC News Front Page at the moment but my old -adversary? - John Baron has resigned from the Tory front bench over Iraq.

I have tremendous respect for John. We fought against each other in the 1994 council elections, and were school governors together. We also connected on our shared love of Manchester United. A decent man, who unwittingly let onto me that the 1997 election was in the bag when he implied he didn't stand a chance in Basildon. He also took the then Town Hall branch out of Streatham Conservative Association in protest at the inexorable rightwards drift charge. When asked to provide 'background' on him, this was the only negative I could come up with. I regret not congratulating him on becoming MP for Billericay - a safe safe safe Tory seat.

Monday, 17 March 2003

I think I ought to reproduce almost verbatim my monologue in the pub yesterday. I say almost, because it could probably do without all the "f*!&>ng"s.

I am sick and tired of all this rubbish about a special relationship with the US. What exactly do we owe them? Over the last sixty years, they've screwed us and screwed us and screwed us, never supported us, and we have to go and fight their bloody wars - for what...

In the Second World War they made a packet out of Lend Lease - fair enough, we were desperate, and the price goes up to desperate people, but they stipulated that if Britain be occupied by the Axis powers the entire Royal Navy had to surrender ...to the USA; while we were fighting, they took our export markets, again, a reasonable result of the free market; they only entered the war when Pearl Harbour was attacked.

We passed them our nuclear secrets in the spirit of co-operation, they used our secrets to progress their research and didn't share the knowledge back; our troops fought alongside them in Korea, all that did was to give Attlee a route to talk to Truman, but no veto over nuclear weaponry, and no veto over an invasion of China; in Suez (which I believe was a very wrong policy by the British Government, but it was British and French policy), they refused to support us; in the Falklands, not only did they not help us, but, John Nott, Thatcher's Defence Secretary, believes that Al Haig leaked our military secrets to the Argentinians, causing death and injury to many British troops; in 1984 they invaded a country, Grenada, of which the Queen is Head of State, without informing the Foreign Office (Thatcher was incandescent); and in Gulf War 1, their amphetamine (speed)-fuelled pilots killed too many British troops.

Remind me, why should we be fighting George Bush's war?

Apropos of this conversation, I asked an acquaintance of mine how he would react if he were called up - he said he was too old, I said I went to his fortieth so I knew he was under forty five, he said he would go. I was shocked; then I remembered that he had previously been not only a Conservative Party member but actually working in Central office, until he realised that their electoral hopes were desperate, at which point he switched parties.

Some people won't let principles get in the way of their careers; perhaps because they don't have any principles.

On Saturday we had grand plans for Sunday. Something about getting up - relatively - early and going out for a walk in Richmond. Ha, we woke at midday.
Rapidly, we had to concoct a Plan B.
We went to Brixton, only to find that the Satay Bar was closed. We decided that we would continue along, calling this Plan B2. We had a *discussion* about which bus to get; he won, then three stops further along, he realised we were on the bus that went to the West (nearer to home, but not close to any eating places), rather than the far, restaurant-filled, East side of the Park.
So we leapt off the bus, and I suggested that we looked to see if the nearby pub, the George Canning, did food. It did but it was fairly awful. I had 'vegetarian roast' which consisted off over-cooked pasta topped with a tomato and cheese sauce, served with over-microwaved, tepid carrots and peas cooked in the sauce from the tin, cold burnt roast pototoes, and cold soggy Yorkshire pudding. Never again. Still, the cauliflower was nice.
We strolled a few yards to the North gate of the park, amused that we were forming almost a queue. We spent an hour or so in the park, looking around, getting some good exercise. We took over forty photos (okay, mainly I did) , of which less than twenty are fit to be published. I don't think that I was putting sufficient energy into it, knowing that the park will always be there, and I can keep going back to take more photos.
It wasa glorious day, beautiful blue sky, and quite a warm sun, although there was also a cold breeze. It is fascinating to watch the Park Life: we saw people pic-nic-ing, playing football (a proper match and lots of kick arounds), volleyball, netball, cycling on the cycling track, roller skating, skateboarding, rhythmic gymnastics, bongos, people reading, toddlers toddling. And best of all, reflecting on the delight of having such an amazing park almost on my doorstep!

Come on, own up. Who put the email around that everybody was to put "What is the latest train to leave London for Manchester before 09:00 today" into a search engine and then hit my site. The requests are coming in from different search engines, different IPs, even slightly different wording. First I was baffled, then paranoid. Now I 'm just amused!

There was one at 9 this morning, or you could have got the 8.30 and changed. This evening the 1955 is direct; you can get the 20:35 and change at Warrington Bank Quay for Oxford Road (from where you can get a bus, if there are no trains). If you get the nine o'clock and change at Stafford, you can be at Piccadilly at midnight twenty six.

Thursday, 13 March 2003

Don't forget I have Sitemeter installed, so I know you haven't all come here looking for "What is the latest train to leave London for Manchester before 09:00 today" (you could try the timetable at National Rail)

I am comparing referrals to my site with Mike's commenters, and, if I have to barbarically butcher Sadie-the-online-kitten, I reserve the right to name the guilty parties.

You don't even have to have any connections to the UK - I know some nice Canuckistanis and Yanquis have been here. It costs you nothing. all you have to do is leave a comment at Troubled Diva .

Simple.

Update 24 May 2005: I've closed the comments; most of the comments left are dull. Like the people who leave them, mainly. I delete the dull comments. There are some bright people; their comments can be found by scrolling down!

Wednesday, 12 March 2003

On politX , I found a debate about the odiousTory use of the words 'tolerate' and 'wrong' in relation to homosexuality.

I think the phraseology is akin to say "I tolerate left-handedness, even though I know it to be wrong." I'm straight and right-handed.

It wasn't so long ago that southpaws used to have it beaten out of them; it often made them stammer (King George VI is the most famous example).

However, I don't know how I could ever convince a bigot that homosexuality isn't wrong. I then think, why should I have to. Surely the burden of proof is on the other side. I can argue, logically, on the basis of behaviour of other species, of what I know about my own, predominantly-straight, sexual orientation, on the basis of all the gay people I know and know of. I could also argue from a libertarian point of view - that it is not the role of the state to attempt to regulate the private lives of adults, be it their sex lives, or the (im)balance of their diet, or how they pass their leisure time. Being not a libertarian, I see there are boundaries.

The arguments that are used to demonstrate that homosexuality is 'wrong' are always flawed in that, they are applicable to some or many heterosexuals, and not applicable to all homosexuals. Or in that very special case of Leviticus, don't ever forget the rule against eating shellfish. My god gave me a brain with which to think and a soul with which to feel.

The word 'tolerance' is more difficult. A Government Department of my acquaintance has a slogan: "Building a Safe, Just and Tolerant Society". I have always seen that as a positive thing. But perhaps it's positive when nebulous - let's all be tolerant of each other - but when converted to a specific becomes negative - tolerating a child's rowdiness because the child is cute, or tolerating someone's loud unmusic because it's Saturday night.

What clinches it, though, is the knowledge that if you think something is wrong, you shouldn't tolerate it. I think murder is wrong, I don't tolerate it; I think bad food is wrong, I don't tolerate. And so on through a very long list.

So what Edward Leigh was actually saying was "We still think homosexuality is wrong because it challenges the nice little world in which I'm doing just fine, thank you, but because we want some votes from people beyond the lunatic hardcore, we'll pretend that we don't really despise fags-and-dykes, coons, and uppity-bitches....Was that right, Theresa?"

I'm trying to avoid going on about this god awful war too much, but I just want to express my admiration for Donald Rumsfeld. Some of us have known for long enough that the Americans don't need British troops to fight their war.

So Blair and Hoon, WTF is going on? Don't get involved in their dirty war. I want to hold my head up high and say "Proud to be English", not have to pretend to be Irish when travelling the world.

Call it off, boys, remember, it's schools and hospitals that will win the next election. And while you're about it, ask how many public servants /reservists (including a teacher friend of mine, possibly) are going to be called up and what effect that will have upon schools and hospitals. And Delivery Delivery Delivery on key election pledges.

This is a hybrid piece of writing, written on 3 or 4 evenings over a couple of weeks.

I was standing on Platform 9 at Victoria Station, waiting for the 1837 train to West Croydon via Crystal Palace (is that too much detail, or is it little details that transform writing from the mundane to the slightly above mundane?) when I spotted a man I use to work with some years ago. Indeed, we trained together and are almost exact contemporaries.

I read a few months ago that he had been appointed to a senior post in some department or other. Rather, more senior than me, which doesn't mean senior at all! I have spotted him a few times at Streatham Hill. Or, rather, spotted someone who looks like him but I concluded it wasn't him because he looked far too young to be in a senior post. But I managed a good long look at him this evening, and it was definitely him. And he definitely looks too young to be in a senior post. But not too young to be a contemporary of mine.

I thought to myself: gosh we must be the only *old* (ie over 30) people getting this train. Then I looked around me and realised that there were not very many under 30s there, and very few under 25s. I have been regularly travelling by overground in the evenings for about fifteen months; I previously did it in 91-95. In those former times, I used to think that everybody was older and more sophisticated. Of late, I have been convinced that they are younger and more sophisticated. I look round now:

Tuesday, 11 March 2003

When I was a kid, I was scared of going up hills, especially to fetch a pail of water, knowing, as I did, that Jack fell down and broke his crown, and Jill came tumbling after.

I was also scared of pretending to be a dog whilst laughing at cows jumping over the moon, because I was convinced it would cause the dish to run away with the spoon. And that would have been intolerable.

Oh, alright, I see it now. Alll the crashes in Thomas the Tank Engine are bound to make children fearful of getting on trains.

Monday, 10 March 2003

The journey so far has been eventful. There was a broken down bus just yards south of (before) my stop. It was stopped in the outer of two lanes. In the inside lane was a van parked on a double red. All the North bound traffic had to go onto the southbound carriageway, yet the southbound traffic insisted on its right to two lanes.

The bus I got on was packed out. The driver kept telling people to move down even though there was no space to move into. Nevertheless, at each stop he let more people on, and each time asked us to move down. At the penultimate stop before Brixton, a man standing close to the driver's cab said quite loudly, "The irony is that 90% of people will get off at Brixton."

The bus approached the stretch of road with three bus-stops opposite the Tube, in the outside lane, passing all other buses and stopping only at the red traffic light for the pedestrian crossing. People, myself included, began to mutter things like 'bus-stop'. As the driver passed the Body Shop and was heading for M&S, somebody asked him to stop and let us off. He protested that nobody had rung the bell (to my mind, a feeble excuse) - someone said that he ought to know everyone gets off at the Tube. (Brixton is said to be the busiest non-interchange Underground station in London. In truth it interchanges with at least a dozen bus routes bringing a ceaseless throng from four directions).

Someone else pointed out that it wasn't a request stop, therefore he was obliged to stop. A chorus resonated of "Yeah, not a request stop". Bemused, exasperated glances were exchanged. I contributed a "It's Monday morning - welcome to a new week." (There's always one embarrassing hag making stupid remarks, and it's often me!)

After work I had a bizarre conversation with someone I used to work with up until five years ago. We were, I think, 'friends-in-the-workplace', often discussing a wide range of subjects over a cigarette, but not close enough to stay in touch after I left. I explained where I was working; he asked me whether I had moved. I wasn't entirely sure what he meant. I think I would have seen him the Christmas after I left, when I had just finished a short-term contract with an accountancy firm. But perhaps he thought I was still at the old place. Whenever I see people from there, they give the impression of time never having moved on, as if they're still on the same old treadmill they were back in 98. Whereas I am on my sixth job since then, and have an entirely different outlook on audit, and, last week no withstanding, work in general.

And finally today, I cam to a dreadful dreadful dreadful conclusion. Dreadful, anyway, for an English woman's who's a quarter Irish. I think I have a slight intolerance to tea. Not 'Bel's tea, which was most welcome this afternoon, but the stuff I get out of the cupboard at work. every afternoon at work I have a slight ickiness. I've blamed it on quasi-flu; I've blamed it on the air-conditioning; I've blamed it on colleagues. But, the ickiness is a milky feeling that makes me burp. I drink milk by the quart at home, so it's not milk. I can only conclude it's tea. I shall have to change my habits of my entire adulthood of spending the afternoon guzzling tea by the bucketful.

Pupils 'need heroes in history', says the chairman of the Society of Headmasters and Headmistresses of Independent Schools. I agree with the headline but not the substance.

In my view, Nelson nor Churchill could ever be a hero to me, and could not have been as a child. Heroes are people that others aspire to emulate. I don't have a problem with children hero-worshipping Beckham, if it means that they are going to work hard in their chosen field, are going to display good manners, and be a good father. However, I think there are many figures from history more inspiring. One of my personal favourites was Elizabeth Fry, prison reformer, or Josephine Butler, who fought for the rights of women exploited in prostitution. I think people like Chad Varah, founder of the Samaritans, or Edmund Hillary conqueror of Everest are remarkable figures. George Stephenson, Florence Nightingale, Charles Babbage, Marie Curie will appeal to others. I haven't even mentioned art, music, and literature.

Sure, I know Nelson was a great Admiral, and I also recognise that in 1940 Churchill was 'cometh the hour, cometh the man' (but he made some dreadful mistakes earlier and later in his career). I find it belligerent, old-fashioned and patriarchal to imply that heroism can only be demonstrated in wartime.

Wednesday, 05 March 2003

Last time when Ron Davies had his moment of madness on Clapham Common I was fending calls from the Press all day. the supposed mugging had taken place in my ward; the Press were sheeplike following the ITN who had notroriously nick-named the estate "Crack Alley". The Press were trying to desperately to get me to admit that it was known locally as "Crack Alley", which it wasn't and isn't. They wanted me to say that Brixton was a thoroughly horrible place; the fact that I focused on soaring house prices, vibrant nightlife, and beacon primary schools ensured that I didn't earn one quote or namecheck in the next day's papers. The Chair of the Tenants Association was furious at the dissing they gave to the Estate

I also objected to the fact that the Press were harassing Lambeth staff as they left the local housing office to go to lunch or home, or about their duties as housing officers.

Monday, 03 March 2003

Like a fool, I have been drawn repeatedly to reading Conservative Commentary . I don't know why - perhaps I was looking for something that explains the thinking behind Conservative ideology. I was to be disappointed.

You might say you're not surprised at me not liking this site. After all, I am deeply political; for very many years I have loathed the Tories and what they stand for. But, I thought, if I could get a sense behind why someone would want to be a Young Conservative it would aid my intellectual development.

To be honest, I found it deeply disturbing. I think it's a well-designed site, and there s absolutely no doubt that the chap that writes it is articulate, eloquent and well-read.

The problem is that he gives no hint of actually existing in the world. He is nineteen years old; in his 'about' page he has the following:

I detest the modish belief that the father is superfluous to the raising of children, and that a single parent family is just as well equipped to raise responsible and mature children. I see marriage as the bedrock of a civilised society and its general valuation as such as immensely important.

He is, of course, entitled to his views, but I assume he wishes to impose them on other people. I happen to think that it's slightly ridiculous for someone with seemingly no life-experience to attempt to dictate how other people live their life. Because he appears to live in a vacuum with no human contact he probably doesn't know how single parent families happen (every single-parent family I know has happened in a different way). He puts no evidence forward for why single-parent families are unable to raise sensible and mature children, whereas I could happily put forward reasons why, and present multiple examples to illustrate my reasons.

He's an ignorant so-and-so, but cleverly disguises his ignorance in fine rhetoric

I value true talent, disliking most modern art and music and in general preferring the great accomplishments of Western Civilisation. I am strongly patriotic, and see the British - through its democracy, its learning and its empire - as having been the greatest civilisation in human history, the Romans following closely behind.

For somebosy who praises British learning, his list of favourite music is devoid of any British (unless you count Handel) or, indeed, any non-Germanic composers. The choice is narrow and shallow - not the pieces themselves, but the sheer predictability of "Your Favourite Tunes Top 100 CD Box Set collection."

His list of favourite books is depressingly soul-less. Whilst some are actually to my liking, the list shows an ignorance of literature, as opposed to books about politics. My own reading is heavily biased towards the political, but my favourite book, ever, is Wuthering Heights.

Twice now I have written comments to his posts, but then deleted them because I don't feel that there is any point. His writings are so based on regurgitation of what he has read, that supports his own prejudices, with no evidence of independent thought, that I doubt he would understand what I have written.

I find it frustrating that there are so many people in the Conservative party who have not an idea of the realities of life. He talks like a member of a Sixth Form debating society with no reference to personal experience, or even to personal observations. To me there is an irony, because classical Conservative philosophy is to accept that humankind is flawed, and to build a society to mitigate those flaws. However, he implies in his writing that the world is full of merely misguided humans, and if we but listen to him, our lives will be fulfilled.

Perhaps it's old age on my part but I really don't want to be lectured by some little upstart, who isn't in a relationship and probably hasn't lost his virginity, let alone explored his musical or literary tastes, nor knows much about history beyond the GCSE syllabus, nor seems to know anything about human life.

And it's not because I'm biased against teenagers, nor am I too proud to learn from them. One of my favourite blogs is written by a teenager. He lives in his life in the real world, and because he pretends not to take himself too seriously, he offers some fascinating insights into the human condition.

Nick has also picked up on this Cuthbertson chap, and has expressed far better than me, something I emailed to Guardian in response to Sites of Resistance

It's now about four and a half months since I activated this domain name. In that time I have not had many people coming to this site on weird searches. I've had a fairly constant stream of people looking for Lorraine Kelly sans vetements. Otherwise, barely anything.

Until this weekend. I have just looked at my site meter and my average number of hits per day has increased by about 25%. Some of the search requests are quite sensible - for example, there are not going to be many websites that mention the Lively Lobster pub in Sale, and it is not unreasonable for somebody looking for info to look at my site just on the off chance of finding something interesting. A few are not suitable to be repeated here, or anywhere.

For some bizarre reason sometime today I was top site for "read my lips bush and blair", and I've had a fair few hits on "Word for Northerners". Fair enough. Gratifyingly, I'm second for "bitch bus"

The rest are just funny

peoples comments about footballers wages too high, but, there again, if the market will sustain them...

how do you know if your putting on a condom in the correct way surely that is missing a 'partner is'

food safety parody songs that's what I call a niche market

michael owen and shagging 3 times I was hit for that I'm only 107th in the ranking, so somebody must be desperate (I have it on good authority that he's far too angelic to shag!)

Chinese culture bettter than Western clearly, because we never had that foot-binding thing

single black lace superman again, three times - perhaps it's being reviled

UK soccer premiership love cheat story is this a search by someone who cannily phrased it in tabloidese in order to hit tabloid style reporting, or do you think that the Great Unwashed are now speaking tabloidese with no awareness that that is what they are doing?

i want some photoes of babies I want! I want! I want! I want! Take one of yourself, love